


Training (in Friendship)

by Taliax



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aang is trying his best, And being a goofball, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly I just want more friendship content for them but Zuko is too busy angsting, References to Aang's scar, Zuko doesn't know how to have friends, or forgive himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21711163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taliax/pseuds/Taliax
Summary: Zuko knows all too well what he's put Aang through.  How can Aang still want to be friends? (Set the day after The Firebending Masters episode)
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 653





	Training (in Friendship)

**Author's Note:**

> Just some Zuko & Aang friendship hurt/comfort/fluff, post-dragons. Started this forever ago and finally decided to clean it up so I can get this doc labeled “hhhhhhhhh” out of my google docs lol

“So we get to start with actual fire today?” Aang practically skipped across the courtyard of the Western Air Temple. Zuko wondered, as he often had before, if that was an airbender thing, or just an Aang thing.

Aang. When had he made the change from thinking of him as _the Avatar_ to calling him by his name? When he’d turned himself over to Aang’s mercy? When he’d watched the boy laugh and joke with his friends around the fire? When the two of them had danced— _trained—_ with the dragons yesterday? 

_(“Do you think we could’ve been friends?”_ Zuko hoped it wasn’t too late to find out.)

“You’ve done your warmups?” He asked Aang, who bounced on his toes.

“Fifty hot squats and a hundred fire fists,” he answered brightly. “I’m ready.”

Zuko nodded, remembering his own determination to get to the advanced firebending forms. They’d learned a lot from the dragons, and they were running on a tight schedule, but he still knew Uncle’s teaching method had been best. The basics were important.

“Good.” He slipped off his vest and pulled his tunic off over his head. They wouldn’t be throwing fire at each other, so it was safe to forego the extra protection in favor of lessening the summer heat. 

Aang followed suit, nearly tangling himself in his haste to get his wrapped sash off. When he spun and floated the garment off with a burst of air, his back faced Zuko for a moment.

Zuko’s stomach rose into his throat. The breakfast Katara had made wanted to come back up, but not because of the ugliness of what he saw. No, a similarly awful scar stared back at him every day. But he’d… he should’ve known...

“Okay, so what are we going to do today? The Dancing Dragon again? Or shooting fireballs from my feet? Or—Zuko? Zuko, are you okay? You look kind of—”

“I’m fine.” He swallowed. 

“Really? Are you sure? Because if you’re sick I bet Katara would help even if she’s still really really mad at you—”

He grimaced. Of course she was still mad.

The reason why was permanently carved into Aang’s back.

“No.” He took a deep breath. In, out. Aang had forgiven him. He wasn’t sure if that was an Air Nomad thing, or an Aang thing. But he was more grateful for it than the boy could possibly know. “Let’s just get started.”

Aang’s eyebrows scrunched. “Okay, if you’re sure…”

“Just get in your stance. And remember your breathing. No, not like _that…”_

Zuko wasn’t used to being on this end of a firebending lesson, but it went surprisingly well, all things considered. In some ways Aang reminded him of Lee, the Earth Kingdom boy who had “borrowed” his swords that one night. The same enthusiasm was there, if not the patience. Of course, Aang also had a natural talent that Zuko knew would put his own to shame. He wouldn’t waste time feeling jealous; Aang would need every advantage to defeat his fath—The Fire Lord. 

And if he didn’t, the starburst scar seared into the boy’s back would be the least of his worries.

“Sharper.” Zuko fell into stance next to Aang, exhaled, and snapped out a punch that made his elbow pop. A blast of fire shot over the chasm beside the temple. “This move isn’t like your airbending forms. It’s a pure expression of power and breath.”

“It looks almost like an earthbending move.” He frowned.

Zuko remembered Toph saying Aang had a hard time with earthbending. With any kind of moves that required facing an opponent head on, actually. That was why Zuko had brought up this rather basic but effective attack. It would be best to strengthen his weak points first, give him time to work on them.

He wished Katara would tell him how she’d helped Aang learn waterbending. The boy was clearly better at that element, but he didn’t know if it was natural talent or the teaching style. But for now, he would just have to make do with the knowledge he did have.

He moved behind Aang to adjust his feet. “Firebending does share some things in common with Earthbending. You need to stay rooted. Uncle says the stance and breath are the two most important foundations.”

“Earthbending focuses on the stance, but breath is important to air too,” Aang said. “I should be able to get this…”

“You will.” Zuko finished fixing Aang’s stance. When he looked up, the raw scar on Aang’s back stared him in the face.

His breath caught again. It was wrong, _wrong,_ another child scarred by his family. And this one he’d helped give—or at least, he hadn’t done a thing to stop it.

When had he stopped being the boy who stood up for a division of new recruits against his better judgement? When had he gotten so complacent in hurting people?

“I think I’m messing up the snap, can you show me again?” Aang spun to ask, but then his eyes widened. “Zuko, you really don’t look so good.”

“I’m _fine,”_ he snapped reflexively. 

And it was true; _he_ was fine. He was used to the tightness around his eye, the way it itched when the air got too dry. He could finally look in the mirror without gagging at his own face. Aang was lucky in some ways, at least he wouldn’t be able to _see_ his scar, but he’d have to feel it; even waterbending healing and magic water couldn’t erase _everything—_

He tried to show Aang the technique again, but his thoughts were still boiling, his breath too uneven. A pathetic puff of smoke wisped from his fist.

“Zuko,” Aang said patiently, like _he_ was the one giving the lesson. Then something flashed in his gray eyes, and he was back to the bouncy twelve-year-old Zuko was used to. “Can we please take a break? Pleeease? Katara says I need to stay hydrated anyway, and—”

_“Fine._ We can take a break.”

But Aang just grinned and flopped back on the stones, cushioning his fall with a pillow of air. “You should get some water too, Zuko.”

“You mean you just want me to get some for both of us.”

Aang’s grin turned sheepish. Zuko crouched down beside him, leaning back on his heels. 

“Not everyone’s going to listen to you just because you’re the Avatar, you know.”

“I know.” Aang chuckled. “Otherwise I would just tell your dad to end the war and you guys could all go home.”

It was clearly supposed to be a joke, but Zuko still flinched. He didn’t miss how Aang said _they_ could go home. Not Aang himself.

Where _would_ Aang go, after all this was over? If they won, Zuko might still find a place in the Fire Nation. But Aang had no people to return to.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That would be nice.”

Aang’s brows drew together as he caught Zuko’s distinctly not-joking mood. “It would…”

They fell into a pensive silence. Aang was probably dreading the inevitable fight with the Fire Lord.

Zuko was just wondering how many more scars the boy would come out with before it was over. _If_ it was over.

Not that he didn’t trust Aang, but… he was younger than Zuko had been when he’d received his scar. Just a kid. A powerful kid, but a kid. 

A kid he’d chased all over the world, who he’d helped scar himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“Huh? What for?”

_Chasing you. My Father being a murderer. That your people are gone. Everything._

“...Not getting the water,” he mumbled, standing. “I’ll bring some back.”

“Don’t worry about it, I was kidding. Besides, I’m the waterbender.” Aang launched himself to his feet. “I was… just worried about you.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t like seeing you get angry.”

Of course he didn’t. His offensive teaching style probably reminded Aang of when he was chasing him.

Zuko let out a deep breath. “I’m not angry at you.”

“But you’re angry at _something.”_

Maybe he was _now,_ because Aang had no right to call out his emotions like this.

(He had every right, after what Zuko had done to him.)

Zuko turned his back on him. “It doesn’t matter.”

Aang sidestepped, placing himself in his path again. Zuko didn’t know what he’d expected. He always ended up crossing paths with the Avatar one way or another.

“If it matters to you, it matters to me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Zuko blinked, mouth parting slightly. 

“You think… we still can be?”

“Of course I do! What else would we be?”

Enemies reluctantly working together to save the world. Allies. Student and teacher. Zuko didn’t _have_ friends. Uncle had been the closest, and he’d… and he was gone. Wherever he was, he likely didn’t want to see Zuko again, anyway.

“...Right.” He swallowed, fighting the ridiculous prickling behind his eyes. Probably just remnants of sweat. “Thank you, Aang.”

“You’re welcome, Sifu Hotman.” Aang gave a low bow, messing up the hand motions that Zuko _knew_ he knew how to do correctly. The parodied action prompted a soft snort, but no more. It wasn’t funny. It shouldn’t be funny; he’d be roasted alive for doing that to a real firebending master.

But Zuko wasn’t a master. And he wasn’t just a teacher. After everything, he was somehow a friend.

So, determined to beat Aang at his own game, he swallowed his pride and gave an even lower, more ridiculous bow back.

“Pupil Hotman.”

It was worth it to watch Aang’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Wha—”

And then the boy collapsed in a heap of giggles. He only composed himself when Zuko threatened to haul him up by his robe.

“Wait, sorry, sorry. Something was bothering you.” Aang sat up, legs folding into his usual lotus position.

He could spill it all: every regret, every fear, every implied apology. But somehow in the face of Aang’s gentle smile, they didn’t seem so heavy anymore.

He thought they were friends. He _wanted_ to be friends.

“I just wondered… if your scar was bothering you,” Zuko finally sort-of-admitted the thought that had been weighing on him.

“Huh?” His hand reached around his back to brush the lightning wound, and Zuko hid a flinch. “Nope! Still good! Katara’s healing powers are _amazing_. Toph even gave me a back massage with rocks and it didn’t hurt.”

“Wow,” he deadpanned, hiding his awe at how Aang could take this so lightly. But Zuko knew better than to draw more attention to the wound than Aang wanted. Zuko hated nothing more than eyes catching on the left side of his face. Whether Aang’s good humor was a cover of not, it wasn’t worth prying.

“I know, right?” He grinned. “So, that’s all it was? I’m tougher than I look, you know.”

Aang flexed one of his skinny arms, bicep barely bulging. Despite that, the expression on his face was all beaming pride.

For the first time in longer than he could remember, Zuko laughed. _Really_ laughed, deep in his chest, out through his nose.

He was friends with the Avatar. Who was also a goofy kid. However his destiny had ended up this way, it felt _right._

Aang was his friend, and Zuko would make sure the boy was strong enough to survive his own destiny.

“I know, Aang. Now do fifty hot squats and prove it.”

“Awww…!”

**Author's Note:**

> Aang doesn’t know how to have deep life conversations, but he tries his best anyway


End file.
